


Death by Coffee

by MamaBearto2



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Brothers, Coffee is everything, Don't Take what isn't yours, Knowledge is power or maybe it's bribery, Morning Routines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 07:47:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21240644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaBearto2/pseuds/MamaBearto2
Summary: Mornings are not complete -or doable- without *one* thing. And some folks get mighty peculiar about not having it. Set in I'maMePanda's Rebuilding 'verse.





	Death by Coffee

Hey everyone! Coming at ya with a funny short. It came, as many things seem to for me, when I saw a meme. When I was writing, it began in one AU and about a paragraph in became another. And because I'maMePanda is totally cool, she let me play in another of her sandboxes, that I never intended to enter. This is set in her Rebuilding 'verse, which is a pretty amazing place. It is some of the very best M7 writing I've read and if you have not read it, I strongly encourage you too. While it isn't *needed* to understand this short, it would help with the dynamics. Also note, this is assuming a bit of a jump in her timeline to probably 8-10 months later.

I hope you enjoy!

***M7***

Cupboard doors slammed and a stack of paper cups flew threw the air, followed by mumbles and incoherent bits of sentences. Stumbling across the floor, he reached the cabinet on the other side and tore into it, a package of napkins sailing onto the ancient tile, followed by a box of tea and, at last, a package of sweet n low that nearly collided with the head of a newcomer, who simply ducked and watched with interest.

"Where _is_ it?" The horror filled words were followed by an outraged cry, and a container of creamer skidded across the kitchen table before landing with a thud near the watcher's feet.

Kicking at the box of Nathan's green tea, he moved back to the refrigerator, grabbing a chair on his way by. Taller now by two feet, he scoured the top of the white appliance, shoving cereal boxes off in his frenzied search. A soft mewl of despair left him and he jumped from the height, stalking back to the most important section of the long countertop. He pulled the black machine forward and dug through the items to its side.

"Black Rifle Coffee?" he muttered fiercely, shoving the can aside only to watch in muted shock as it tipped on the counter's edge. A hand appeared, snagging the can from certain destruction and a momentarily disembodied voice caused a shiver to run down his back.

"Chris might j'st kill ya, if'n that falls. Orders it special n' all ya know."

He nodded silently, watching the hand push the canister back towards the wall. He fully understood the importance of having a desired item at your fingertips.

"Someone took it." The angry words burst forth from him a moment later, and he turned to face the intruder with a glare, "It is nowhere in this room!"

Shrugging, the buckskin clad brother grunted, "Weren't me."

Green eyes smoldered as he turned back to the coffee pot. He shoved cans and mugs around, pushing the antique sugar dish hard enough it slid all the way to the sink, in a last ditch effort to find his missing necessity.

"You break th' dish and Aunt Nettie'll do ya in." The words were soft as the lanky body leaned back against the fridge and continued to observe, "She might anyway, seein' as how ya mussed up 'er kitchen."

Growling, he yanked the dish back towards the coffee pot, before pushing the offending small appliance towards the wall.

"Madhouse! This is a madhouse!" He shoved away from the counter and brushed by the smirking Texan, "Mah morning has been ruined by robbery and you stand there without assisting!" The younger brother stepped into the entryway and grabbed his coat, tossing it about his shoulders with a flourish, "How any of you survive without a decent drop of coffee, Ah'll never know!"

Keys were grabbed and angry mutters continued as the young Southerner wished every kind of darkness and disease upon whomever had stolen the last of his Carte Noire, the door slamming behind him with finality.

Vin glanced from the front door back to the coffee pot and then shrugged. Ezra'd always been a mite strange. Pushing away from the fridge, he pulled the coffee pot and the can of Black Rifle forward.

"Chris won't like you drink'n his coffee there, Pard." Buck's voice from the doorway to the living room had the tracker pausing for only a moment.

"Ezra'll like it even less, I tell 'im you an' Leslie Ann drank his coffee."

Buck paused, considering. "Help yourself, Junior."


End file.
